


Tender

by Luckless_Salmon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Azure Moon Route, Byleth is not about that idea, Dimitri wants to s u f f e r, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Relationship, TLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckless_Salmon/pseuds/Luckless_Salmon
Summary: A soft moment in the middle of a war.(Alternatively: Dimitri wonders if his morals are in line with that of the Goddess; Byleth is more worried about Dimitri himself).





	Tender

The night with quiet, with the moon hanging solemnly in the sky; if Dimitri were a man more prone to such fancies, perhaps he would think the celestial object was too mourning the lives lost earlier in the day. Life had beat realism into his soul at a young age, however, so instead he just labeled it as irony and moved on.

Taking lives never got easier, despite what he uttered during episodes of mania. Watching the life drain from someone’s eyes like water in a bath, the way people’s chests crunched as if made of tissue, the sight was sickening. He was the farthest thing from Holy, so who was he to determine someone’s fate as if he were God? Their cause- that of the Church and the Holy Kingdom- seemed to be most just, but Edelgard likely felt the same about her own. They did not have the benefit of retrospect, so had to simply grasp in the dark for what appeared to be virtuousness. If one reflected on it too long, it became... maddening. 

More often than not, Dimitri found himself at the cathedral’s altar. While he appreciated his comrades company, their voices were often loud, so jarring that it made his good eye burn with tears. Apparitions of the dead had provided his fill of screeching for the rest of his days; if his neurons were subjected to further stimulation of such a sort, he may be driven to rip his hair from his head. The Church, somewhere used for quiet prayer and remembrance, therefore seemed like a prudent place to retreat.

At times there were other parishioners, but this evening the cathedral was empty. Most residents of Garegg Mach were either resting or celebrating their victory over Empire troops; when Dimitri had passed the reception hall earlier, the mead had already been flowing without end. He had made eye contact with Sylvain, who had grinned at him goofily before turning back to an uninterested young maiden. He was thankful his comrades could let down their hair so to speak, even if he was unable to. 

Coming here had been a questionable decision- he was well-aware of how the Church orphans watched him from behind pews and giggled about the ‘one-eyed monster of Garreg Mach’- but having spent countless hours sweating in his own sheets, anything seemed like a better option. The wound on his side was aching terribly and thoughts were zooming through his head a hundred miles a minute; some fresh air would do him good.

Now, staring upon the pile of stone that once depicted the Goddess Sothis, he did not regret his decision. Money had begun to be funneled back into the church; though many contributions were paltry, the sum was enough to begin restoration of the statue. It was difficult to remember just how the figure used to look (he spent far more time at the training grounds than in the chapel, despite how his father would have balked at his imprudence) but it’s new shape could be described as nothing less than breathtaking. With shapely hips and high cheekbones, the Goddess truly looked as if she could have given life to the entirety of Fódlan. Oddly enough, she looked stunningly like- 

“I knew I would find you here.”

Dimitri immediately spun on his heels, falling into a defensive stance; brawling was hardly his specialty, but he had trained in all forms of combat to ensure he would be prepared no matter the situation. Upon recognizing the shadow and the tone of voice, however, his shoulders relaxed. “Oh, Professor, it’s you. Isn’t it rather late for you to be out? There are monsters that wander the monastery late at night, or so it’s said.” 

Byleth hummed, heels clicking against the stone floor as she approached. “I am well aware, but I’ve been on a mission to find one such wayfarer. You were not celebrating with the rest of our comrades, nor were in your quarters when I stopped by. I figured this would be the next best place to check.”

“O-oh, I see,” Dimitri replied lamely, feeling his heartbeat tick up in his chest. Such emotions, foreign but familiar, had been popping up whenever the professor gave him a smidgeon of attention. He knew them to be inappropriate, was aware there were far better partners for Byleth out there, and did his best to stomp them back into the depths of his soul. At times like this though, when exhaustion had seeped into his bones but sleep still evaded him, it was difficult not to be a bit selfish. “Well, you seem to have found me so-“

“Take off your shirt,” the older woman interrupted, face blank.

“E-excuse me?” he stuttered out, feeling a hot flush crawl up his neck.

“I said,” Byleth repeated lowly, “Take. Off. Your. Shirt.”

If his thoughts had been racing before, they must have been moving at light speed now. The professor had always been frank about her wants and needs, but she had taken it to an entirely new level. “P-professor, I didn’t realize you felt this way, perhaps we should talk about this first.”

A quizzical look came over Byleth’s face, before her eyes widened in realization; a dusting of pink colored her cheekbones as she replied. “Your wound. I was talking about the wound the you’ve been hiding from the healers. Not demanding to see you naked.”

Dimitri wasn’t sure if he was relived or disappointed.

Then, an awkward cough from Byleth. “Not that I would ever complain about seeing you in the buff.”

His blush flamed anew at her words, unsure of how to respond. “I-I see. Well, I also would not complain about seeing you, ‘in the buff’ so to speak.”

Both parties averted their eyes, tension in the air palatable. After a few moments of awkward silence, with only the chirping of crickets audible, Dimitri finally sat down on an empty pew to more easily remove his shirt.

Immediately, Byleth was at his side, helping him work the fabric over broad shoulders upon noticing his failed attempt to hide a wince. The wound was short but wide, appearing to crawl up and around the bottom of his rib cage; the gash was inflamed, slowly seeping a translucent ooze. All in all, it was painful and likely prone to infection. 

“Knew it,” Byleth muttered under her breath, ghosting her fingers over the site. Upon seeing Dimitri’s inquisitive look, she elaborated. “Your right hand is your dominant one, but you’ve been favoring your left. I knew something was wrong, just as I knew you were unlikely to go to a healer for aid. You consider it penance.”

Dimitri stayed silent, watching as Byleth rummaged around in a small pack she had come with; it contained a variety of medical supplies, but she reached for a bandage and a bottle of disinfectant.

“Truly, I wish you would take better care of yourself,” the woman murmured, dumping a bit of the disinfectant on the cloth before pressing it against his ribs. “This may hurt a little.”

‘Hurt’ was a mild way of putting it. With how terribly the wound stung, one would think he was being flayed alive; in order to prevent himself from howling from the pain, Dimitri wrapped his hands around edge of the pew they were on, squeezing with all his might. Unsurprisingly , the wood creaked under his fingertips. 

“Hey now,” Byleth called, a teasing lilt to her tone. “Watch that strength of yours, Seteth will have both of our heads if we break one of the pews.”

Dimitri nodded, opening his mouth to respond but instead hissing through clenched teeth. He couldn’t really tell if the sting had gotten any better or worse, but did notice how Byleth gently squeezed his thigh in support. 

_ You love her, you fool. _

After a few more moment of blinding, white hot pain, the cloth was pulled away. Dimitri glanced down at the wound, hoping to see some sort of physical change, but just felt dizzy upon seeing the pus-filled gash. Instead, he chose to focus on the intricate floral patterns woven into Byleth’s pantyhose.

“I often hear you tell our soldiers to keep fighting, to cherish the life they have been given,” the older woman spoke slowly, uncapping a jar of salve. After scooping a heaping amount onto her fingers, she began to slather the ointment on the irritated skin around his wound; almost immediately, the area went numb. “You, however, seem far to ready to give up on yourself and your own precious life.”

He once again decided to remain mum; both of them knew her words were true, so there was no need to argue. Instead, he watched her wipe the excess goo from her fingers onto her shorts before reaching back into her pack. After a few moments of rummaging, Byleth pulled out a thick spool of gauze. 

“Arms up,” she commanded, waiting for him to raise his shoulders before beginning to wrap the material around his chest. Dimitri couldn’t help put notice the heat of her breath against his collarbones, how she smelly just barely of vanilla and honey; she must have visited the sauna before seeking him out. The thought of her in the bath, wrapped in nothing but a towel, caused that same, twisted feeling to rise in his chest. Rather than pay it any mind, he chose to close his good eye and focus on his breathing.

_ You want her. _

After several more loops of the bandage around Dimitri’s chest, Byleth ripped the binding from the rest of the spool using her teeth. Retrieving a small, tacky substance from within the aid kit, the older woman adhered the bandage to itself, ensuring it would remain taunt against Dimitri’s muscle. “There we go, all nice and clean.”

Dimitri nodded and stood, stretching his arms above his head. After several weeks of marching with the rest of the army, he was not entirely used to remaining stagnant for so long. His wound still prickled when the muscle around it contracted, but it felt much better than before. 

“Thank you, Professor,” he remarked, turning to retrieve his shirt from where Byleth had folded it on the pew. “I’m unsure what I would do without you.”

“Dimitri, I worry- _we_ worry about you greatly,” Byleth replied, not looking up as she packed away her supplies. He tried not to focus on how her hands were trembling. “Please, try to be more careful, or at least have your wounds tended to. The Kingdom needs it’s king.”

“Of course, I will try to be more mindful,” Dimitri responded, knowing full well that he would not; still, he wanted to quell her fear, to dispense of the worry in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

Byleth sucked in a deep breath, standing suddenly from her position on the bench. With a stern gaze, she stared Dimitri down, eyes unwavering. If the situation was less grim, Dimitri may have laughed; seeing his tiny Professor glare up at him with such a serious face was quite the sight to behold.

After several seconds had passed, Byleth sighed and ran her fingers through her mint hair. “I’m heading to bed. You should try to get some rest too, if you can.”

Solemnly, Dimitri nodded. “If it will bring you peace, I will try. I would just like to run through some stretching exercises before returning to my quarters. The night air... brings me peace.”

“Of course”, the woman murmured, looking past Dimitri to the Goddess statue beyond. A series of emotions flickered through her eyes before she stood tall and strode towards her former student.

“Good night Dimitri,” she whispered lowly, standing on her toes in order to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “May Sothis bless your dreams.” 

With that, Byleth turned on her heels and walked confidently out of the chapel. Dimitri felt as if his heart was about to explode. 

_ You want to be with her. _

If Dimitri was less of a realistic man, he may have believed Byleth to be a figment of a fever dream. Tonight, he was thankful for his pragmatic consciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think soft moments like this happened often during the war and we just didn't get to see them.Uh also I'm never gonna get over Dimitri's A support where the orphans stab him. Comments and kudos are appreciated as always, thank you for reading!


End file.
